


lucky stars above

by aBowlOfSalt



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, not me writing a songfic in 2020, pwp bby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:14:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27466261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aBowlOfSalt/pseuds/aBowlOfSalt
Summary: The music is low,A breeze rolls in from the window and it could be any place, any time.Angel isn’t dead, isn’t in hell,Just a boy falling asleep in his lover’s arms.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	lucky stars above

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X03uSwM07_A&ab_channel=MicheleBell

The perfect alignment of his sharp teeth—

Yes, that’s what Angel noticed first. Triangles, white as snow. And he couldn’t look away from the bright gleam of them, in the red dark of the Hotel. 

He could see them even in the shadows in the corner of his room, a flash in the night. Illusory, but there. Would catch glimpses as he kissed Fat Nuggets goodnight, or smiled to himself as he listened to a song playing on the radio. It was happening enough that Angel would stare pointedly in Alastor’s direction the next day to no avail, no acknowledgment. 

Charlie thought he was being silly when he brought it up early one morning, before anyone else was awake. 

( _He hardly slept anymore, it had become difficult to without—,_ )

“Well,” Charlie started off, lamely, “Maybe you’re just, um, manifesting things you aren’t fully ready to process just…yet.”

Angel raised an eyebrow, unsure of where she was going with her train of thought.

Charlie sighed, “Maybe, Angel,” and her voice was _so_ soft, “Maybe you’re just used to evil things watching…”

The silence hung in the stillness of the morning.

“Huh,” he laughed, spread butter on his toast, “I guess I should be, sister,”

And he went on with his day, and he’d tried to shake the comment off,

( _As he’s tried to shake off so much before_ )

——

Yes, there had been flirtations over the months since his residence of the hotel. 

If he’s honest, mostly on Angel’s part. 

The radio demon doesn’t necessarily reside on the same _wavelength_ Angel operates on, but the spider is nothing but adaptable. And perhaps he does notice when the glances at dinner last longer, and the accidental touches in the narrow hallways _linger_. 

One would think he’s the type to bring it up in conversation, but he can’t bring himself to do so. Odd, indeed. He’s not one to shy away from such things, but the unbearable weight of Alastor’s smile weighs heavy on him, in a way that he’s never experienced before. Angel knows how to be coy, knows how to lick his lips in a way that imitates appetite, hungry and wanting. And, sadly, Angel knows how to hide disappointment, and so when Alastor doesn’t bite the bait, he doesn’t push.

“ _Maybe it’s in my head after all_ ,” he thinks as he walks up the stairs to his room one night, “ _Like the princess says, right?_ ” What little brain he had, had been scrambled by all the drugs he’s taken and that was just the most logical explanation. He’s at the top flight, ready to just call it a night and end another monotonous and empty and dreadfully sober day when— 

“Angel, my good fellow,” it’s all grainy static and noise, but Angel recognizes it just the same.

“What’s happenin’, Smiles?”

He turns towards the sound. His lower arms subconsciously grab unto one another behind him. The corners of his mouth lift, but he feels how forced it feels against his cheeks. He’s taller than Alastor, but it seems to matter little in most circumstances. They both knew the Radio Demon, if _he so chose_ , could end him at any given moment. And if that thought made Angel shiver deliciously alone in his bed , _well_ …

Alastor smiles, a dark glow in the darkness around them, like he knows, like it’s what he came for, and all it takes is Angel matching it with his own before they’re kissing against the door of his room like it’s all they needed from the go,

A pair of sharp, white smiles flashing at each other in the night.

***

_“They’re writing songs of love,”_

The music starts as a low hum, but becomes louder as they venture further into Angel’s room. 

“Hey, I think I know this one,” Angel smiles, the lopsided grin he saves for when he really feels it. 

“Oh, do you?” Alastors sighs against his lips, in a way that tells Angel, _Yes, yes I know._

“Yeah,” Angel giggles as Alastor starts kissing down his neck, “My sister would put it on any jukebox we came across,” 

“A lady of taste,” And the deer demon grabs the softness of Angel’s thighs, pulls his lower legs around him.

“Runs in the family I guess,” and Angel moans, ripped out of him as Alastor bites the junction of his shoulder. And he _forgets_ for a second, how much he does miss his sister, and her music as it would blast through their house.

_“Oh lucky stars above_ ,” 

This is quite a turn of events that although welcomed, Angel was not ready for. His room was in disarray, Fat Nuggets snuggled up in a mess of pillows in his corner of the room and his own sheets chaotically spread about the bed. He knows how particular the Radio Demon is about things. And he’s had trouble sleeping, trouble sleeping without—

_“But not for me,”_

“I,” Angel pulls away minutely, “I hope the room isn’t too messy for you, Smiles,” and he yelps as the Demon picks him up completely and lays him haphazardly on the bed. 

“You think I’m focused on your room right now?” And the chuckle that follows is so deep, so dark, it goes to Angel’s gut like a shot of the strongest stuff they got at the club.

The spider looks up from the tangle of sheets, blinks, realizes in the back of his mind he forgot to close the blinds. In the flooding moonlight, he could see every gleaming corner of Alastor, sharp edges and all. 

In turn, Alastor can see every gleaming corner of _him_ , and his mismatched eyes, and his the speckled surface of his face. The rose-color dusting underneath his eyes. Angel feels, faintly, the sensation of something unbuttoning his blazer.

_“With love to lead the way, I’ve found more clouds of gray,”_

“I,” Angel starts, caught up suddenly in the stillness of it all, “I like you.”

Alastor brings a hand up, cradles the right side of Angel’s face. Angel feels his blazer slip off his shoulders, his boots and pants all but disappeared. 

“Oh, Angel,” A dark shadow rises up from behind Alastor, dark and overwhelming in the blue light, “I can feel you, dearest,” 

The spider nods, can feel the coolness of sweat bead at his temples. When did it suddenly get so hot? Alastor rubs the soft fur between his legs, already damp.

“You can’t sleep, can you?”

Angel whimpers, a dark shadow soothes him as he shuts his eyes. He turns his head towards it like a balm. Alastor’s fingers find the center of him so easily, like it’s what they are meant to do.

“At night I can hear you crying,” Alastor continues, pushing a finger inside excruciatingly slow.

Angel yelps, smiles through it, “You’ve been watching me, I know you have,” doesn’t acknowledge anything else.

_“I was a fool to fall and get that way,”_

Alastor stills his ministrations, “Yes,” no denial in his static voice, “You’re beautiful you know,”

Angel loses his breath, tightens around the length of Alastor’s fingers. Can’t say words, not while Alastor is rubbing the part of his insides that make him see fire.

“So beautiful when you’re broken, even in death, _my love_ ,” and it’s all static now, like tuning in to his grandfather’s radio on a stormy night when he was a child.

“Ah,” Angel scrambles to grab onto the sheets around him. 

_“Although I can’t dismiss the memory of his kiss,”_

It feels so good, Angel can’t remember the last time his eyes rolled back into his head involuntarily like this. Valentino _wishes_ he could make Angel come like this, effortlessly like its second nature. 

Angel’s lower limbs hook around Alastor’s thin frame, squeeze around him like the demon could _save_ him, could rescue him from all this when in fact, he’s trapped too. 

_“I was a fool to fall and get that way,”_

“Come, for me,” and it’s a command that Angel would have listened to anyway, come hell or high water,

He sees stars, sees God, sees high heavens above in a splendor of blues and purples,

_and_ —

**Author's Note:**

> *sweats nervously* Um, it only gets dirtier from here so rating will change next chapter.
> 
> The song was a very specific choice, in the sense that I think it's a beautiful one, and canonically I think Angel would have enjoyed it so I hope you enjoy it too <3


End file.
